He Will Always Be My Little Brother
by DocumenteKaze232111
Summary: A worried Franziska von Karma contacts her brother, defying an order given to her by her father, Manfred von Karma. Following this decision are events that force her to question just what that foolishly foolish fool of a brother of hers means to her.
1. My Brother, the Fool

**Author's Note**

Please be aware that this piece is a companion fiction to the ongoing story "Grey Skyes". Although I recommend that this be read in context, this companion piece may also be read as a stand-a-lone. Now, for those who do not know, in Chapter Five, As Glass Cuts, A Ruler Will Bruise, Miles Edgeworth recieved a call from his half-sister Franziska Von Karma. In this piece, we will see that chapter through the eyes of Franziska von Karma. (_Please note that I have never written for Franziska von Karma and tend to see her in a very different light than she is portrayed in the games._) Thank you, and enjoy.

Keep Reading! Your Author,

Serah.

P.S.: For your convience, I have translated the German language back into English for readers who have already struggled through As Glass Cuts, A Ruler Will Bruise. These changes are in bold, and the English sentences spoke between the brother and sister are also in bold. I have also decided to place an extra scene starring Franziska and her father for all my lovely readers.

**Companion Piece :**

He Will Always Be My Little Brother

**Part One of Two: **

**My Brother, The Fool**

**October 20,**

**12 : 45 p.m - Germany, von Karma Residence.**

**"The shame! Have you no honor, Edgeworth? Defeated twice by the same child attorney. To think such stains will forever burden the von Karma name! To think **_**father **_**still allows you bear the title ..." **Not for the first time, I, German Prosecutor Franziska von Karma, found myself chastising the foolishly foolish fool Miles Edgeworth. Having lost two coutroom trials with the same rookie Defense Attorney, a fool of a rookie by the name of Phoenix Wright, I have lost lall my patience for my adopted brother. Though likely, not for the reason he suspects.

I heard my adoptive brother take what seemed a nervous deep breath, and I rolled my eyes. What, did he think I was going to lash him with my riding crop?...Actually, on accound of my frustration at him and his predicament, I would... He spoke after several moments, in a cold, calm tone that surprised me.

**"I believe Mr. Wright won both trials fairly, Franziska. As for our Father, I have thanked him time and time again for his mercy regarding my failings; I do not believe anything more can be done." **

As I listened to him, I became more and more furious with him. It was not just his voice that angered me, it was his coldness. Although yes, I admit my statements before were a tad harsh, I did not mean to insult him.He countinued,** "A loss is a loss, Franziska; though I doubt you would understand that."**

On account of _"you would not understand"_, I do not think _he_ understands the danger he is currently in, the prediament I called him (something I have been forbidden to do by my father) to warn him of. My father, his adoptive father, was furious with him, and that could only spell disaster for my little brother. Worried, I felt my temper slip from my grasp for the first time in quite a while. Emotions, my father has taught me, were for the weak. I obviously was not weak. _Drastic times call for drastic measures; _one of my first memories was something I remember my mother, now long dead, told me.

**"Foolishly foolish fool! This is not about those losses! Father may have forgiven you, but he was, and still is, in a terrible rage!" **

Despite whatever my father thought of me, I was not a fool. Although it started before my half-brother began his desent into dishonor, he had been in a terrible mood. His trials were perfect wins, not a damper on his honor, yet he seemed...troubled. Our lessons left me with more bruises from his accursed ruler than knowledge. I fought back a sigh, allowing my real concern to surface in my next words, which were quiet. I was, of course, running a terrible risk of being found by my father. If he heard these words, it would likely spell end for both of us.

** "...As foolishly foolish as you are, Edgeworth...I don't want to see you stripped of our name, brother. Stop taking cases if you have to. Father will be most disappointed if you fail once again- especially to that foolishly foolish fool Wright."**

As he formulated his response, I quietly walked across my bedroom carpet, opening the door just a crack. I saw nothing but the afternoon light shining through the corridor windows. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, I closed my door again. I would have locked it, but if my father did happen to enter while I was speaking to Miles, it would only create more problems than it would solve. The law never stopped my father, what chance did a mere oak door have?

** "I will take your advice to heart, Franziska, though you must realize that it will be much harder to do than to say. Things here in America are never as simple as they are in Germany, you see."**

Before I could stop myself, I said under my breath, **"Foolishly foolish Americans." **My brother, the best American Prosecutor despite his dishonor to the von Karma name, is in danger, and those fools dared to tell him when he will take cases and when he will not? Foolishly foolish fools. If I were there, I would likely lose my temper with them and lash them all. From the corridor, I thought I heard footsteps.

Feeling just a tad bit shaky, I spoke again after a short, tense pause.** "You must be very careful, Edgeworth." **I felt foolish for whispering, but realizing the footsteps were not just a figment of my imagination, I knew I must speak quickly, warn my brother of the danger he may be in- my penalty be damned. **"Father is very angry, although from what you have said, it would seem he doesn't show it outwardly when he speaks with you. But I am here in Germany with him, and he seems to be -"**

My wooden door opened. I stopped speaking, taking a preemptive, cautionary step back. My father emerged through the light that came into my bedroom, and I cursed myself silently. Now that the penalty faced me, I almost regretted warning my brother.

Almost.

** "Franziska, daughter, who are you speaking to?"**

There was still a chance out of this. My father had just presented my opprotunity to me on a silver plater - though I very much doubted I could pull it off. Nonetheless, for the sake of my brother and for the sake of myself, I had to try.

**"Father, I am speaking to a client." **

Lying to your father is not something I would reccomend if you wanted to avoid even more trouble, especially if you are not well-versed in lying to him. But then again, this was not a normal household, nor was this a normal "father-daughter" situation. _Drastic situations call for drastic measures. _My voice sounded calm to me. I spoke into the reciever again, intent on warning Miles of his prediament (and mine) and of just who had interrupted our conversation.

**"Foolishly foolish fool, be more careful! You may be in danger, and I cannot help you if you continue to act this way." **I hoped he knew just how much I have risked by calling him, by giving him my warning about my father. He did not speak, but I knew he was listening. I had not disconnected the line. My father, meanwhile, had crossed his arms. I knew instantly that he did not trust my word.

**"I do not believe you. Give me the phone, Fransizka."**

** "Father-"** I believe my gaze told him that I would not surrender it willingly. Moving faster than I would have previously thought impossible, he snatched the device from my hands and knocked me away, though not enough to injure me, or enough to send me to my bedroom carpet. I did gasp in surprise, however. Straightening myself, I stood, motionless, feeling rather defeated. What a disgusting emotion.

Was this, this defeated feeling, what my younger brother was telling me I _'don't understand'?_

**"What is the meaning of this, contacting Franziska so? Have you not stained her name enough, just by thinking it?" **My heart sunk as my father spoke, dark malice in his deep voice.__I had no choice now but to listen to my father, gather all the information I could, and hope that foolishly foolish fool could somehow placate him.

Somehow, I heard his reply, calm and collected as ever. **"I meant no disrespect, **father." We both knew that this call itself was of the highest disrespect. **"I needed advice for my current situation in America, and I believed Franziska could provide that for me. I called her," **Miles lied calmly, and I believed my father's narrowing eyes said that he knew that particular detail. He was trying to lessen the penalty he and I knew was sure to come. I was touched; but he and I knew that, in light of my betrayal, nothing could stop him completely. ** "And will have apologized to her when we speak again."**

And the sad part was that I knew my brother would apologize, too, that noble, foolishly foolish fool.

I could not help but flinch when my father's furious voice boomed throughout the room. I have rarely seen my father so angry, and, I am ashamed to admit that it frightened me. **"Your situation in America is hopeless! You will not drag my daughter down with you when you fall! I will not allow it!"** Glad to know he loves me.** "You have failed us, and your presense and lowly name will not be tolerated any more!"** I flinched again, my eyes closing briefly as I braced myself for his next demand, one of which I knew would come following such a harsh statement.

"**You will not contact Franziska again!" **The blow came harder than I expected. More painful. I clenched my fists, though I did not object nor try to defend my brother. I looked away, ashamed of my father's words, and of my own weakness. "**Do you understand?"**

**"I do understand, father." **He knew it was much, much too dangerous to agrue now. His next words, however, surprised me. I fought back a tiny gasp- instead, I blinked several times. **"However, I ask for one last word with Franziska. Three minutes, that is all I ask."**

"Damn boy." My father spat in disgust. I was relieved that my brother did not hear him. My father tossed me the device. I caught it in some surprise, though I would wager he saw this 'final goodbye' as a painful event for us both. Quite fitting for the beginning of my penalty, I'm sure.

As he left, I rose the phone to my ear once more, wearily watching my father. **"You wanted to speak with me?"** I did not speak in German, but in English, and I watched in some satisfaction as my father threw me a disgusted, infuriated glare that sent a small shiver down my spine. The slam of the oak door rang through my bedroom and likely followed my father through the corridor. I would pay for my transgressions later; but for now, I concentrated on my younger brother.

**"I am sorry, Franziska."** He sighed. I heard the sorrow in his voice; I heard his restrained anger at my situation. **"I have just made day-to-day life with your father a bit more unpleasant for you."**

I mimicked his sigh with a small, private smile. I enjoyed teasing my younger brother. **"No, you have not." **I answered honestly, surprising myself at doing so, closing my eyes briefly before continuing, believing it to not make a difference whether he knew this or not. "**Life had already been unpleasant here; I have merely added oil to the fire. He has been in a terrible mood, even before you began your losing streak. It seems you are not the only foolishly foolish fool to foolishly irritate my father these days."**

**"You do enjoy that word, don't you?"** I could not help but chuckle at his foolishly foolish question. I did enjoy saying that phrase. And besides, it described him beautifully. I did not respond until I was sure my laughter had subsided. My voice was quieter as I apologized, that hopeless feeling I have felt since his departure to America returning.

** "I must apologize, too." **I told him. Although it was obvious he has never felt love for our von Karma name, we, or at least I, was his only relative, the only family he had. I felt beyond guilty, responsible for his loss of that. **"I obviously overheard what he told you. I should not have called you."**

** "I'm glad you did."**

That silly, emotional, stupid, foolishly foolish fool of a fool. I smiled thinly, though it quickly disappeared when I heard my father speak. I knew he had heard every word I had said to him. I covered the reciever with a hand to ensure my brother did not have to hear my father speak.

"Mittags Unterricht beginnen in fünf Minuten, Franziska." He said from the corridor, and I froze at he sheer menace in his dark voice, "Sie werden in die Bibliothek kommen dann. Erwarten Sie Ihren Unterricht auf sehr späten Abend laufen, und erwarten, dass sie sich als sehr schwierig. Sie haben mich sehr heute enttäuscht, Tochter. Beachten Sie, dass, wie Sie durch diesen Lektionen."

I felt another, colder shiver run down my spine.

When she was sure he was finished speaking, she said quietly, **"It is time for the noon lessons."** Iwas cetain that my brother knew what that meant; it was implied, after all, and he was quite intelligent. After several moments, he spoke again, softly.

**"I'm sorry, Franziska." **There he went, apologizing again. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, ready to tell him he was a foolishly foolish fool for apologizing when he has done nothing wrong, when he spoke once more. **"I am forever your brother."**

I stared blankly ahead in surprise. It was cheesy, it was cliche- but it was perfect. I felt myself smile, and for the first time in quite a while, I meant it. I took a deep breath, and, aware that my father stood outside, able to hear my every word, I spoke just as softly. **"As I am forever your sister, be damned whatever name we are under." **

After a tense goodbye, I ended the call. Scarcely breathing, I made my way across my bedroom carpet and opened the door to reveal only a corridor filled with light. Composing myself, I slowly made my away down the corridor, down the stairs.

Before the oak doors of the library within what felt like an eternity later, fear growing inside of me like some sort of fungi, quick and strong, I took a small, yet somehow warming comfort in reminding myself of my foolishly foolish brother.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

Author's Note:

**I need only translate one simple statement from the above Fiction. What Manfred von Karma said to his daughter in the German language was: **"Noon lessons begin in five minutes, Franziska. You will come to the library then. Expect your lessons to run very late tonight, and expect them to be very difficult. You have disappointed me greatly today, daughter. Remember that as you go through these lessons."

**I would like to remind the reader that I have never wrote for Franziska von Karma or Manfred von Karma before. I hope they seem realistic, or at least that this fiction was good enough to wipe aside my mistakes.**

**Lastly, I will be posting a second, and perhaps a third chapter to this story. It is only a Companion Piece to "Grey Skyes", but I very much enjoyed writing.**

** Review and Keep Reading!**

** Serah.**


	2. Myself, the Weak

**Author's Note:**

**Welcome to the second installation of "He Will Always Be My Little brother". Normally, I do not place ANs, but the habit seems to be continuing as of late. It has an important purpose, however, so please do bear with me. I wish to tell all my lovely readers that, because my muse seems to be singing with this story, I will continue it until I feel it is done. Which means, of course, it will be following, as a Companion Piece, my "Skye" trilogy, which stars Lana and Ema Skye and Miles Edgeworth. Because of this close link, I do ask my readers to do as I have asked in the sixth chapter and submit an original character. Ending this rather long note, I would also ask that my readers would begin to review. **

** Keep Reading!**

** Serah**

**Companion Piece :**

"He Will Always Be My Little Brother"

**Part Two of Two :**

**Myself, The Weak**

**October 20**

**1 : 14 P.M. - Germany, The von Karma Residence.**

Justice is swift within the von Karma household. Each transgression made by a foolishly foolish fool, merely thought or undoubtedly proven, will meet the due consequences of their actions. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule; my father is perfect and he did not make mistakes and, therefore, is always right. As such, he carries the sole right to punish wrong-doers in any way he sees fit. Usually, this meant a missed meal, longer and more difficult private lessons (naturally this meant your wrist would visit with his wooden ruler,) or a beating.

Beatings are scarce nowadays. My half-brother endured one at least once a week for his first several months after his adoption, but then, as did I, during my first years of learning to become a Prosecutor. After we had both reached our teenaged years, my little brother being several years older than I, the beatings became less prominent of a punishment and seemed to fade away into our memories.

These beatings could last anywhere between one minute through sixty- the time depended on the crime, so to speak. My father had the habit of using a timer in order to give the criminal the 'perfect' penalty. My father also had a habit of using his cane rather than his fists, a fact that seems to puzzle my brother to this day. Personally, I have long held the belief that he does so because we are beneath him and, as such, are not worth the strain and sting of his hands.

My father had begun to quietly list my transgressions to me when I entered the library hours ago, mere minutes after I had ended the call I had placed with my brother.

As I came closer, he grew slightly louder. Though I had become slightly more frightened than I to admit, my mind remained clear with the promise I had made myself- to take whatever penalty my father gave to me, no more, no less. I had also promised myself that I would not, however, defend my brother, as much as I wished to do so. Such an action would simply cost me too much.

"Defiance of a direct order, contacting the dishonored Miles Edgeworth, seeking to comfort and aid said boy..." My list of transgressions went on and on as I sat down before my father, a position I have taken for the past eighteen years. My father spoke, surprisingly, in English, telling me that he was likely calmer than I had previously believed...which may be a good sign, though at the moment it is far too early to tell. My father's emotions were like a light-switch- he could turn them on and off at will.

After what seemed a meaningless, yet meaningful pause, my father spoke once more. "The lesson will begin now, Franziska. Remember my earlier warning; it will serve you well." As my father spoke, I steeled myself for what could very possibly be one of the most brutal lessons I have ever endured.

:: - FvK - ::

October 20

11 : 43 P.M. - Germany, the von Karma Residence.

I have been told that, like the bright German sunsets I have come to love, midnight is darker in my country, darker than any other in the world. The same person also told me the reason for the darkness- Germany, although a small and therefore believed as inconsequential in the world, has endured more than its share of hardship. The sun is brighter here; as is our moon.

These thoughts invaded my mind as it was near midnight, and the said moon was the only light allowed inside the library. The light shone on the polished desk my father and were so stiffly sitting at. His arms were crossed, and mine cradled a heavy, thickly bound compilation blandly titled 'Law'. It was not a book I studied from often. It was a very, very difficult read, perhaps the most difficult in the entire von Karma library, among which what must be thousands of books, among what must be millions of pages. I doubted even my father, an avid reader and judicial genius, had yet to read it entirely. I firmly believed that my foolishly foolish fool of a brother likely never went near it.

A sharp sting on my tight wrist tore me from my idle thoughts. I carefully kept my expression neutral, though the sting re-awoke what must have been the hundreds of other stings I have received. I had lost count hours ago. My father tapped the polished desk in impatience with his long fingers, his cold, icy eyes meeting mine as I forced myself to glance up at him.

Another snap of the ruler on my wrist told me, impatiently, to continue my studies.

"A Prosecuting Attorney, referred to almost always as a Prosecutor, stands as the opposite of a Defense Attorney. Where a D.A. will defend the Defendant, a Prosecutor will use any tools necessary to win their guilty verdict. Their main resources to gain such a verdict include, but are nor limited to..."

As I dutifully continued the assignment given to me by my father, reading the book aloud- a long, laborious task that I privately declare as foolish, my father's grip on his wooden ruler tightened. After several moments, his grip loosened.

"Enough, Franziska." He declared. His deep voice was darker than it had been moments before. Gingerly, I placed the book down onto the polished table. He placed his ruler on the desk as I did so. I was somewhat relieved with his movement, though I did not allow myself to fully leave my guard. My father was well-versed at lulling his prey into a false sense of security and springing upon them when they least expected it, therefore causing yet more pain than he would otherwise.

He spoke again. "Stand up." His voice was ever the darker, and I realized that these past hours, as I obeyed the command, that as I read to him, my father had allowed his anger to fester, to grow until he could hold it no more. This realization, I admitted, frightened me quite a bit.

Meanwhile, my father as I did. His cane, which had previously been placed in a leaning position against our table, was now held in his grip. "You have disappointed me, Franziska- more so than usual." He began, approaching me as he continued to speak, "The penalty for your blatant disregard of my direct order is not an easy one to administer. It must, however, be done. Do you agree, my daughter?"

"Yes, father." I murmured in agreement. I was not doing so just to placate him. I agreed that, for disobeying my father's direct order and contacting my brother, I deserved to be punished to the fullest extent.

I had, of course, and it was foolish to deny it, accepted the punishment the moment I greeted my brother over the phone.

"Do you regret disobeying me, Franziska?"

The moment of truth, so to speak. The second promise I made to myself- to not defend Miles Edgeworth against my father- hung in the balance.

However, I knew by now that lying to my father would merely worsen the punishment. Damned if I do, damned if I do not. I allowed myself to break my promise. It did not matter now, anyway. I was going to endure a beating at either answer. I may as well endure it with no regrets- the one promise of the two I would never break.

"No," I answered, watching as my father clenched his hands around his cane, knowing my answer had made things all the worse for me, "I do not regret it, father."

"So be it." His voice was suddenly calm. His expression was blank. "Come." That order given, my father stepped past me and continued on towards the door leading back into the main house. With some confusion, I followed.

The twelve chimes that announced midnight's coming rang clear as I followed my father through those wooden doors and into the unknown.

:: - FvK - ::

**October 21**

**12 : 04 A.M. - Germany, von Karma Residence**

We had, to my surprise, returned to my bedroom. My father threw open the door and led me inside, turning the light on as he did so. My bedroom was suddenly shrouded in both artificial and the darkness that accompanied the night, the highest window allowing some moonlight to invade the space. In perfect center of the large, pentagon-shaped room, he turned around to face me.

I stood mere feet away from him, a fearful anticipation causing me to tense without the consent of my will. We stood in complete silence for many long minutes, until his eyes closed and he turned on his heel, away from me, and towards the windows.

"Remove your blouse."

Startled, blinking rapidly in confusion, I hesitantly questioned him. "Father?"

"Remove it." He repeated simply. I stood, frozen from shock, for just a few seconds more, before shakily doing as I was told and relieving myself of the garment. As it fell uselessly to the carpet, I could not help but shiver- my bedroom was kept at a normal temperature was usually comfortable, but then, I was always wearing...well, I was always wearing something.

My father, meanwhile, stared idly at the moon through the windows. I heard him rustling with something, and with a jolt, I realized he held something in his hands besides the cane- it seemed a thick, leather strap, a belt to be specific. "Turn and face the wall."

I did so with a sinking heart.

I had, obviously, guessed as to what happens next. I doubted I would be strong enough to endure more than just a few lashes. I have never endured this sort of punishment before. Nor, to the best of my knowledge, had my brother- and for that, I was grateful.

I would not wish this punishment on anyone.

A shadow fell against me. I knew it was my father. "Do not bite down on your tongue." He advised quietly, raising his leather belt high into the air. "This is your punishment, Franziska. For each lash give you, you will count it. If you do not, I will simply add another lash. Ten, I believe, will suffice."

The first lash came unexpectedly, just after he had finished speaking.

Sharper than any sting of the wooden ruler and more devastating than the harshest blow with the cane, I could not help the loud, rasping gasp that filled the suddenly humid air. My father drew back expectantly, awaiting my answer, but I found that, when I parted my lips to form the required response, my voice had somehow died.

I watched, my eyes wide with pain, as his shadow on the wall before me shook his head, as if in disappointment. "Weak," He called me, raising his leather belt once again, "Eleven lashes, Franziska."

The second lash was expected, but as my body was already sensitive from the shock of the first, this explosion of pain was much worse than the last eruption. "One," I managed to gasp through the pain. Nodding, my father drew the leather belt back again.

Another blow. For the first time, I felt the belt cut into my skin. "Two."

I felt the three new cuts begin to bleed, to begin roll down my back. I imagined them vividly to look like falling crimson tears. "Three."

"Four."

"Five." My knees buckled suddenly, sending me into the wall. I desperately pressed my arms against it to keep myself from falling. Sweat rolled freely down my body. I realized with just some disgust that the moisture on my face was not just from the perspiration. My father seemed to have noticed this, too, and his disgust for me was transferred into the strength of his leather belt.

"Five..."

Time passed. As I spoke the next five numbers as the blows fell, my pain seemed to grow. I allowed myself to gasp, though my father was never rewarded for his work with even the smallest of cries. I made sure of that. This humiliation, this pain- it was taxing enough without his ridicule.

The last number rose and fell with the leather belt. "Eleven." This blow felt the strongest.

We spoke this number at the same time. We were both out of breath- my father from the utter strength he put into the blows, and myself from the punishment I had just endured. Very weak, I felt myself slip to my knees, shuddering violently. The wall supported my simple movement; my father did not.

"Weak," He called me again, and I unconsciously, instinctively flinched, as the leather belt dangling from his hand twitched. "Weak, Franziska." I could only nod in agreement.

I could not bring myself to disagree with his remark from my knees.

"I hope this lesson has taught you at least some respect, Franziska." He continued speaking as he realized I could not speak from the pain, disgust laced in his every word.

"These marks will leave you with scars. Let them remind you of my lesson. Let your pain now remind you of your actions against me, your father, and how they were caused by the same, undeserving fool of a brother you tried to protect. Lastly, know that your little warning to him has not made the slightest bit of difference to his ultimate fate."

I heard him kneel next to me, a surprising action that I instantly believed a threat. However, my worries seemed unfounded. All he seemed to do was survey the wounds he had long moments passed.

Suddenly, his palm was pressing against my back, against the wounds. It sent cords of pain into my body. Darkness lurking dangerously on the edge of my vision, I felt my pain receding. I felt myself falling. The soft carpet below caught me. I watched the wall as the shadow of my father again shook his head, disapproving.

"You are weak, Franziska."

His shadow receded and disappeared completely, leaving me half-conscious, crumpled like litter on the streets on the carpet. I could feel my heartbeat racing as the door leading into the corridor outside my bedroom opened and noisily shut. I continued to shudder from pain and cold, though not as terribly as I had in the presence of my father.

I could not move. To weak to struggle through the pain, I allowed myself the indignity of resting where I was. And so I closed my eyes.

My last thoughts solidified the belief that his last words were the only truth of the world.

:: - FvK - ::


End file.
